


Karma (it's not me you want)

by PrincessAutumnArcher



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Kissing, Loki is Alive, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Crush, a lot of crying, and pissed, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAutumnArcher/pseuds/PrincessAutumnArcher
Summary: Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.Every day after the Snap was hard. Every day after the Blip was even harder: some people didn't come back. Wanda knows loss like an old friend, and she knows how to keep herself running.Even after apprenticing with Strange and watching her life (literally) crumble into pieces around her, Cassandra hasn't learned all that yet, and Wanda proves to be quite the teacher. After all, even cruelty defines itself with kindness.
Relationships: (past), Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Wanda Maximoff/Original Female Character(s), Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Karma (it's not me you want)

“It’s not me you want.”

Wanda pushed a lock of silky chestnut hair behind her ear, face just as calm as her voice. Her cheeks were dusted lightly with pink, but a solemn understanding ached in the depth of her eyes.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

Cassandra shot Wanda a startled look as she pulled back from where she had frozen at the sound of Wanda’s voice, head angled up, lips softly puckered just inches away from the tender skin at the corner of Wanda’s lips. Her fingers slowly retreated until her hands folded in her lap, neatly knotted away from where they had previously rested against Wanda’s waist and shoulder. Flushed cheeks burned hotter, prickle spreading down her spine as she took in the somber set of Wanda’s slim face.

“Wanda…I’m sorry if I’m going too fast, I just…”

Embers of sad, sweet understanding kindled in Wanda’s eyes, saying what her voice left silent as Cassandra added softly, “I really like you, Wands. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. Is…is it okay if I kiss you?”

The sparks in Wanda’s eyes smoldered somehow both hotter and softer, glossy olive green melding into the unreadable nature of her mind. “Cassandra, I wouldn’t mind that at all. But I know that’s not what you want.”

“Wanda, I promise I’m not just trying to get into your pants or anything—”

“I know.”

“What?”

Wanda’s cool hands, chilled even more by the scattering of silver rings adorning her fingers, slipped over Cassandra’s and squeezed gently.

“You’re sweet, Cassie, but you’re looking for something else. Someone else.”

“Wands, I’m sorry, I really care for you, I just want—”

“Him.”

Wanda cut Cassandra off firmly, holding her gaze mercilessly but not unkindly. Her fingertips smoothed soothingly over the palms of Cassandra’s hands, thumbs rubbing light circles into their backs.

“Him,” she repeated. A sheen of scarlet flashed over Wanda’s eyes—

_Tall, lean, toned, cloaked in green so deep it was nearly black. Ivory skin, smooth but rippled by muscle and scar alike. Tempestuous seas caught in glinting eyes. A long-fingered hand, curled elegantly around a dark-hilted dagger, and thin lips framing a tilted smile just as sharp. The piercing, icy scent of fresh juniper and glacial smoke._

—Cassandra reeled back violently, tears springing past her will to prick at her eyes. Wanda’s grip on her hands tightened, pulling back until Cassandra was hunched back into her own lap, arms extended and trembling in Wanda’s steadying grip as her shoulders shuddered with sobs.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Cassandra gasped through chest-heaving tears, “I _do_ like you, Wanda, I-I—”

“Shh,” Wanda murmured, tugging Cassandra by the arms until the sorceress laid in her lap. One hand came up to stroke Cassandra’s hair gently, fingers occasionally dipping deeper to comb through the feathery, blue-dyed strands. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you still haven’t. I know.”

Cassandra swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand, jaw clenching as she attempted to control her hiccupping breaths. “H-how did you know?”

Wanda didn’t stop her gentle strokes as she simply answered, “How could I not? I feel you, whether or not either of us wants to. Your mind is never open or closed to me, it just _is_. Everyone’s is.”

Cassandra gulped in air, trying to anchor herself in something, anything to escape the feeling of coming apart in Wanda’s arms—and then it hit her, an icepick shard of lightning in the darkness.

“So you know wh-what _he_ thinks—”

Her voice was rough and desperate and raw, just like the way her fingers clenched in Wanda’s sweater without even realizing they snagged the crimson yarn. The naked, fragile hope flickering in Cassandra’s eyes would have hurt to see if Wanda had been anyone other than herself, and even so, Wanda Maximoff almost hesitated despite everything her powers had laid bare before her.

“I cannot hide anything from myself. I know you care about me, but not the way you care for him. I know you want to drown yourself in the things you want to feel for me, and I know what you’re running from. I know what he has thought of since that day. I know sadness, his and yours both. I know pain. I know grief. I know that I care for you, that you are kind and hurt and in need of healing.”

Cassandra’s breath hitched as Wanda lifted her tear-streaked chin with two gentle fingers. The witch’s eyes captured those of the sorceress as she continued softly, “I know that I am not what you need. I can’t fill that void.”

Wanda leaned in and pressed her forehead to Cassandra’s, her eyes closing as she whispered, “I can’t cure yours and you can’t cure mine. Our suffering is different but the same. But we can help each other. We can take away some of the pain.”

Her breath puffed soft and light over Cassandra’s semi-parted lips, almost as feather-light as the fingertips ghosting over Cassandra’s damp cheek. With her eyes closed, it was easy to remember the soft blue of Vision’s eyes in Edinburgh and the way his voice had resonated in every fibre of her being:

_I just feel you._

The next whisper drifted from Wanda’s lips silvery like smoke, tingling with the quiet, floral burn of pear liqueur when the trail of words landed on Cassandra’s trembling lower lip.

“It’s not what we wanted. It can be what we want now.”

Silence stretched between the two women, taut and thin but too powerful to pierce until it was over on its own.

“It’s okay if you kiss me. It won’t hurt.”

 _As much. It won’t hurt as much_ , Wanda thought, dangerously loudly, but Cassandra’s lips were already shakily closing the miniscule gap between their faces, and then there was warmth and smooth, plush contact, and Wanda could try to forget herself for a searing sweet moment of just _feeling_.

Somewhere between the second and fifth kiss, and well before the door to the pantry opened, Cassandra stopped crying.

Wanda never felt guiltier than she did angry at what had driven her to guilt, and it wasn’t time for either of those emotions yet. Not yet.

Somewhere between the journey of her hands from timidly dangling limp to tangled in Wanda’s hair and pulling her closer, Cassandra convinced herself that the hollow ache in her chest was really a heartbeat.

It wasn’t cruelty, Wanda told herself as she traced the tattoos on Cassandra’s forearm with the scarlet glow of one fingertip. It was coping.

The door swung open. Light flooded the pantry, bringing with it a swirl of smoky juniper. Wanda’s eyes opened. Cassandra’s did not, but a tear slid down freshly dry skin. Blunt, wounded desperation surged forward in her lips, working against the slanted comfort of Wanda’s mouth.

Olive eyes glinted at a cold, broken celadon gaze. Scarlet mist wreathed Cassandra’s hair, billowing over her ears. Wanda never had been good at thinking quietly.

_She kissed me._

A pale fist clenched on empty air and the pantry door shut as suddenly as it had opened. Cassandra’s eyes slowly opened, pupils yawning impossibly wide in the renewed darkness.

By the time they staggered out of the pantry, hair still slightly mussed and lips vaguely aglow, the ice on the handle had melted completely, although the metal itself remained bitterly cold.

 _Karma_ , Wanda allowed herself to think when she slipped on the resulting puddle, ankle turning and sending her crashing to the floor. Not cruelty, not coping.

Karma.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this wayyy back in March 2020 (read: I'm posting this unedited whoops lol), inspired by a tumblr post I saw about the Avengers and darker interpretations of their powers (like Wanda not really grasping boundaries since everyone's minds are open books to her 24/7 whether she wants that or not, and her emotional/ethical spectrum operating on a much more removed scale than in the movies) and the latest episode of Wandavision (ep. 4) made me think about it again! She's such a cool character and I'm really excited to see her fleshed out more in the show.   
> Thanks for reading; kudos and comments always appreciated. I'll see you guys real soon. :)


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